


At Least No One Knows

by Lycorim



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental Voyeurism, Arya Stark is a Little Shit, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Idiots in Love, Jon is Done with This Shit, Kinda, M/M, Public Display of Affection, Rickon is Baby, Sansa is a Hopeless Romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28687425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycorim/pseuds/Lycorim
Summary: Nothing is easy when you're a lord's son with a secret. A VERY well kept, secret, mind you, and one that might or might not involve the midnight (...and midday) rendezvous you have with your best friend. No, it isn't easy, but at least you've managed to keep this secret from the hands of your five siblings....Right?Or, Five times a Stark (or Snow) catches Robb in the act with Theon, and the one time either of them realize they've been caught.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	1. To Sansa's Surprise...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! This is my first fanfiction (or really fiction work) at all since like seventh grade, and I had a blast getting back into writing and shit. I can't promise consistent updates, but I try my hardest, I swear!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit sexual content and a minor witnessing some of it from a distance. Be warned if that sort of thing rubs you the wrong way, and stay safe!

1\. Sansa

A hopeless romantic, Sansa was doomed to be the first of her siblings to catch on to her eldest brother’s escapades. It’s not that she hadn’t suspected it before (she _wasn’t_ stupid, _Arya_ ) but of Eddard Stark’s other five children, having _Robb_ beat her to romance hurt the worst. Willful ignorance of the situation was only to be expected. As long as she just grit her teeth and closed her ears to the extremely suspect noises coming from Robb’s chambers at night she had no reason to be disappointed.

Closing her ears didn’t help so much, though, when the evidence was laid out clearly for all to see through a nudged-open chamber door. Sansa wasn’t spying. She _wasn’t_! It's just that, for one thing, those noises only ever came from Robb’s room, not _Theon’s_ , and the choked-off moan emitted from the door’s gap sounded almost painful. It was only logical to peek in and make sure that nothing bad was happening, of course.

It had been a lovely morning and an even lovelier noon, with the sun shining bright and dappling the ground where it shone through the leaves of the weirwood. It was only a couple of hours since Sansa had returned from said tree, too enraptured was she by its beauty that summer day, but the light that streamed through the window of Theon’s chambers illuminated everything inside to a dazzling degree. 

Never had Sansa hated it more. 

The sun was dappled here, too, although instead of setting the red leaves of the forest floor aglow, it brought out the red flush on her brother’s cheeks to a startling degree, nearly masking his freckles and bringing his skin to an uncannily similar shade with his hair. Hair that was far more unkempt and sweat-damp than it had been only an hour ago when Robb had left luncheon with... 

Blue eyes bulged as two and two were connected; the overeagerness with which Robb had left the hall, the sly glances that Theon thought went unnoticed between them, the damned _whispering_ and the _knowing_ and often _exasperated_ looks Jon had shot at them both… and now whatever in the Seven Hells she was seeing before her. 

_I’ve been a fool!_ Sansa silently bemoaned. _A hopeless, ignorant fool!_

The blush didn’t stop on Robb’s face, though. Sansa was quick and alarmed to discover that both Robb and Theon, propped up on the bed frame and upon whose lap the former was stradling, were entirely topless. A pale hand ran down her brother's equally freckled back, coming to rest at his hips as they ground against his partner’s. The other hand grasped a (thankfully) still-clothed thigh. Both of Robb’s hands were preoccupied, as well, tangling together in dark hair, pulling the two face-to-face in a heated, noisy kiss.

_Seven Hells_ , thought Sansa, petrified in the doorway. _Seven bloody Hells. I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be here!_ But try as she might, her eyes wouldn’t avert from this poorly hidden secret moment between her brother and her father’s hostage. _Come off it, Sansa, just leave already!_

Her internal debate was interrupted by a particularly lusty moan from Robb, who had thrown his head back as Theon’s attentions moved to his (just as freckled) neck. The hand that had been on his thigh had at some point moved to where Sansa could not see, but assumed to be the ties on his breeches if the movement of his arm was anything to go by. The one on his hip had also dipped down further into the back of the breeches, rousing a visible shudder and a low groan from Robb. Now, Sansa was a girl of thirteen and although she had never done anything like _that_ before she had heard the bawdy banter in the court and had learned enough about… _human physiology_ … from her Septa to know what was likely happening where her eyes could not glance. To see it happen though (and to her straight-laced, honorable older brother, no less)... 

Her brother’s hands had drifted downward, as well, gracing over an unblemished ivory collar, past the archer’s defined chest and coming to rest lightly on his abdomen. This elicited a flinch and a breath of a laugh from Theon, who whispered something that vaguely sounded like “ _that tickles”_ before craning his face back up to meet the other’s lips once more. This kiss soon devolved into bites and moans, and soon enough Robb was sitting up in Theon’s lap with the latter hastily moving to pull the breeches down.

Sansa could watch no more. She had a vague idea of where this was going and had no intention of seeing it firsthand, and _especially_ not to her eldest brother. The pleasured cries coming from that god-forsaken chamber only seemed to grow louder the further she fled. 

_What should I do?,_ She puzzled. Going on as if nothing drastically important had happened, pretending she didn’t see Robb in a new light and not struggling to look Theon in the eyes after this, that was simply out of the question. Surely what she had just seen was something to bring up with her parents, right? After all, Mother had warned them all (even Jon) never to get close with the young Greyjoy, and _close_ wouldn’t even begin to describe what Robb was to him. But bringing it up with Mother or Father would mean indefinite punishment for Robb and Theon, and Sansa would feel dreadful if they were to blame her for tattling. 

No, then. Better to bottle this away and bring it up later when she had some time to process it. After all, it didn't seem like either of them disliked what was happening, and something that made Robb happy couldn’t be _so_ treasonous as to warrant chastisement, right?

Sansa smiled, just a little. 

_A noble lord falling in love with an enemy captive,_ she mused. _It’s quite like one of those romantic songs, actually._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was very fun to write! Thank you so much for reading my silly fanfic. Kudos and reviews are greatly appreciated, as is constructive criticism. I am just getting back into writing so tell me what I can work on! :)


	2. Bran's Curious Climb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some kissing, mild discussion and reference to sexual activity, and a minor seeing and hearing it. If you are uncomfortable with that sort of thing, please proceed with caution or click back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! This is my first fanfiction (or really fiction work at all) since like seventh grade, and I had a blast getting back into writing and shit. I can't promise consistent updates, but I try my hardest, I swear!.

2\. Bran

 _It’s the perfect afternoon for a climb_ , Bran thought as he scaled the brick walls of Winterfell. _Although I should have started sooner._ Indeed, the sun was beginning to set, the wallface in front of him growing less visible in the shadow of the evening sun. He had climbed in much darker circumstances, to be sure, but he didn’t want to be late for supper and make Mother worry again all because he had to move more slowly on his descent. She already seemed worried when they all broke their fast that morning, although Bran couldn’t seem to understand what the matter was. It was only a training wound, Robb said so!

-

All of the Starks (including Jon Snow) took their breakfast together in Winterfell’s main hall. None of them ate before all eight of them had arrived, and the last to show up was almost always Arya. Bran rose with the sun every morning, like a man grown would. To date he had never been the Stark that stalled breakfast. This morning, though, it had not been Arya who made them all wait, although she _had_ been nearly ten minutes late ( _a good test of patience_ , Father would say, but Bran just called it rude). No, today it had been Robb’s absence that cost Bran a warm, early meal. He was so late, in fact, that Mother sent a servant to Robb’s room to rouse him. At that, Sansa flushed a little and looked like she wanted to object, but the elder girl held her tongue. 

The sound of hurried steps not a minute later, though, signaled that the eldest Stark sibling had finally ( _f_ _inally!_ ) arrived.

“Forgive me”, Robb apologized as he appeared through the hall’s doorway. “I must have slept in.” Father just waved him off with a stern look and motioned for him to take his seat. 

As he made his way across the long room to the table, though, Bran had recognized a change in his eldest brother’s gait; he seemed to walk stiffly and the trek to the table looked almost painful. It didn’t get better once he reached the table, grimacing as he went to sit down. Bran took that as his queue to begin eating.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Mother had asked with a worried edge to her voice. “You’re limping.”

Bran had never seen someone’s face go _that_ red _that_ quickly as Robb mumbled some dismissive response about training at swords with Theon. Sansa had choke-coughed into a napkin, Bran remembered, and that had been the end of that conversation. 

-

None of that mattered now, though, because Bran was nearing the top of the wall. It wasn’t an exciting climb, not like when he went to feed the ravens, but he couldn’t risk a higher vantage point so late in the day. The view from here was decent enough, though. He could see the training grounds from here, and watching his Father’s men train was almost as fun as climbing. Maybe they would be dueling today! That was always Bran’s favorite.

But when he pulled himself onto his watching ledge, there were only two figures in the grounds, and neither of them built like soldiers. They weren’t even _dueling_ , he noticed with a disappointed humph. One figure, which Bran quickly recognized as Robb, was drawing a bowstring towards his cheek, but no arrow was notched. The other figure was, predictably, Theon Greyjoy. He was standing behind Robb, one hand covering the one on the bowstring and making slight adjustments to his grip, while the other seemed to be doing the same on his hip, correcting his posture. He was saying something, but Bran was too high up to hear what.

Deciding that if he were to spy on his brother he might as well do so _properly_ , Bran climbed down to a lower crevice in the wall.

“...your shoulders. They’re too tense. And your stance is too tight.”

“And whose fault is that, I wonder?” Robb replied with all of the sarcasm Bran had ever heard him use. But Theon just grinned in that sly way he always did and pulled him closer. 

“ _Fault_ is a strong word, Stark, especially when the blame goes both ways.” And the hand that had been on his hip began to slowly travel up to his waist, wrapping around and pulling Robb flush against him. 

_They’re not very good at training_ , Bran thought with confusion. He had seen Theon hold other people like that before, mostly serving girls in tucked away corners when neither of them would have seen a small boy like Bran peeping curiously through the window. But this was _Robb_ , not a serving girl, and the training grounds were most definitely not a tucked away corner in some unoccupied chamber. 

His brother lowered the bow string and turned his head slightly to face his “training” partner.

“Not here, Theon. There are windows and corners all around, and you know how Arya and Bran like t- _mph_!” Whatever he had wanted to say about Bran was forgotten as Theon pressed his lips fiercely against Robb’s.

“Stop worrying, love. No one will see.” The bow fell to the ground, all but forgotten, and Bran winced when he thought about the damage it may have sustained. _Ser Rodrik will blame me for that, you meanies!_

After what seemed like far too long, the two pulled apart, still touching foreheads.

“We should head to the dining hall,” Robb said lowly. “Mother will fume if I’m late to another meal because of _you_ ”.

“Will she now? And Lady Catelyn knows it was me that caused that limp of yours?” Theon joked, which made Robb huff and playfully push him away, a flush visible on his cheeks even in the dim evening light. The two left the grounds not long after, leaving Bran to the now-dark castle wall, cursing himself for ever deciding to climb that day.

Bran was late for dinner that night, and he cared much less than he thought he would about breaking his perfect meal attendance record. For once, he felt he had a much more pressing issue to weigh on his mind. The look Sansa gave him when she caught him staring confusedly at Robb halfway through the meal told him he wasn’t the only one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and reviews are greatly appreciated, as is constructive criticism. I am just getting back into writing so tell me what I can work on! :)


	3. Arya Stark and the Godswood Tryst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some heavy kissing and a minor seeing it. If you are uncomfortable with that sort of thing, please proceed with caution or click back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! This is my first fanfiction (or really fiction work at all) since like seventh grade, and I had a blast getting back into writing and shit. I can't promise consistent updates, but I try my hardest, I swear!

3\. **Arya**

Arya was bored. Not in a ‘ _Septa Mordane caught me flaking and now I have to do extra needlework’_ sort of way, but more in a ‘ _Jon promised he would play at swords with me but he’s fifteen minutes late and I have been sitting in this rock for far too long’_ way. In fact, that’s exactly what had happened. Her half-brother had seemed irritated at breakfast and dinner yesterday, and Arya knew that an irritated Jon would be more likely to accept her request to fight than a level-headed one. Not that he would ever turn down a request from his favorite sibling (and who else could that be but Arya? _Boring Robb?_ _Even boringer Sansa?_ ), but better to be _absolutely_ sure.

She wasn’t so sure herself, though, as the image she was tracing in the dirt with her wooden-practice-sword-turned-pencil became just a mess of squiggles. _He probably forgot_ , she bemoaned, and decided that waiting on the rock for another minute would surely drive her mad. _Nevermatter, I’ll find something to do without Jon._

The problem was, nothing seemed fun after the prospect of training had crossed her mind. Maybe she could find Bran and have him fill Jon’s proverbial shoes for the day, but he was probably climbing or something dumb like that.

Wandering through Winterfell would have to suffice. As she wandered, being careful to avoid places a Septa or a big sister could be lurking about, she came upon a window in the upper-level hallway. It was one of her favorites (aside from the one that overlooked the training field, that is). It looked far out beyond the fortress walls of the castle, displaying miles upon miles of rolling Northern landscape. There was no snow on the ground currently, but when there was, it was hard to pull the young Stark away from that window, where she would spend hours planning an adventure through those hills and forests. The godswood could even be seen from here, the sun glinting off the godspool just a gleam from her vantage point.

That gave Arya an idea.

…

By the time she reached the ancient circle of weirwoods, Arya’s skirt pockets were so stuffed with rocks and acorns that she couldn’t add a single one more. It would make climbing the tree that much more difficult. _Bran could probably make the climb with twice as many rocks stuffed into even more pockets_ , she thought with a small pang of jealousy. As she had predicted, a few small stones tumbled from her skirts as she made her way up one of the more climbable surrounding trees, perching herself in the most hidden of the lower branches. There she made her lookout. 

Arya hoped that her Father had chosen a different time to pray that day. If he had caught her rock-in-hand, a serious talking-to and an all-day appointment with Septa Mordane could be expected. Luckily, her hopes had been confirmed. It didn’t take long for a target to be spotted, given how much noise it was making, and she sighed in relief when she identified the two boys beneath the opposite tree as Robb and his constant companion, Theon. She couldn’t see them properly through the branches, but she would recognize the voice of her third-favorite sibling anywhere, even when it was lowered to a whisper such as now. 

As Arya moved to a less hidden branch to get a better look, the rock she drew from her pocket all but fell from her hand as it slackened in confusion. A wayward branch still blocked a bit of her view, but she could clearly make out Robb leaning peacefully against its white bark, ginger hair shining against it, his eyes closed and face tranquil, while his hand ran tenderly through the dark hair that pooled on his thigh where Theon’s head came to rest. The ironborn whispered something that brought a slight blush and a lop-sided grin to Robb’s face, and he bent his head down to place a soft kiss against the other’s lips.

_Disgusting_ , thought Arya, who felt a little queasy all of a sudden. No doubt that Sansa would find the romance in this scenario, but it was entirely lost on the younger Stark girl. At least she had her rocks handy to put a quick stop to the grossness if it happened again. Plus, it was easy to hit a stationary, distracted target.

It didn’t take the (gag) _lovers_ long to give Arya another motive for attack. Theon, who seemed to like being _kissed_ for some reason, sat up and, bracing himself on the ground with one hand, used his other to pull Robb back towards him and plant their gross mouths solidly together.

_This is why Jon and Bran are my favorites,_ she mused, moving a reasonably sized pebble behind her head and preparing to throw. _Even Rickon isn’t that nasty and he’s a gross baby that poops his pants_ (her littlest brother was well past his pants-pooping years, but her point still stood).

She waited. Robb’s hands linked behind Theon’s back. She waited. With a moan, lips parted and soon _tongues_ were introduced into the equation for some reason. She waited. Robb shifted so that he half-lay half-sat against the tree with Theon pinning him down by the shoulders. She waited. Kiss-swollen lips parted with an awful _smack_. Three words tumbled secretively from them. 

_I love you_.

She threw the pebble. As sure as the Seven, it flew in a beautiful arch through the branches, glancing by illuminated leaves, and coming to strike with an audible _bump_ against the side of Robb’s leg.

He jumped up with a yelp, ramming into his partner’s head and eliciting a string of curses from the both of them. Just as he began to frantically look through the treeline, Arya made her escape, jumping from the branch and darting as quietly as she could back to the castle. 

…

She found Jon sitting on the same rock she had not an hour before. He looked up at her with exasperation.

“And where have you been?” he asked with an air of annoyance. Arya, now as frustrated as Jon had been the day before, threw an acorn at him. He dodged it. She threw another. That one hit his chest. Unlike Robb, Jon just raised an eyebrow at her, a silent question she knew all too well.

“Robb’s being gross,” she answered simply. He looked at Arya’s face, then to her overfilled pockets, then to the scuffed-up dress. A look of realization crossed his face, before he broke down in laughter.

“Were you throwing acorns at him and Theon?” 

“They were _kissing_!” she retorted “And I threw rocks at them, not acorns.” That only made Jon laugh harder. By the time he was able to breathe again, tears were running from his eyes.

“ _What?_ It’s not like he caught me or anything.”

“Of course he didn’t, Robb can’t see past the end of his damned nose when Theon’s around. Do you know how many times _I_ wanted to throw a rock at them?” 

Feeling embarrassed, Arya picked up the wooden sword from earlier and whacked Jon with it. _You’re lucky you’re still my favorite._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably my favorite chapter to write so far! It felt a little clunky at the beginning, but I think I managed to pull out something fun and humorous. Kudos and reviews are greatly appreciated, as is constructive criticism. I am just getting back into writing so tell me what I can work on! :)


	4. Jon Snow's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Month

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains discussion of sexual activity and explicit oral sex. If this isn't your cup of tea, I do not blame you. Just be warned reading head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is my first fanfiction (or really fiction work at all) since like seventh grade. I had a blast getting back into writing with this! I can't promise consistent updates, but I'll try, I promise! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.

**4\. Jon**

If there was one thing Jon could say in favor of his older brother, at least he wasn’t shy. Had he been, Jon’s recent life would likely be more peaceful, but there was simply no way he would be this bold with the affair if an ounce of shyness or general courtesy existed. Or maybe that was just his profound lack of peripheral awareness. _Actually, yes, that seems far more likely than any sort of bravery,_ he had mused the night before, pillow shoved over his head in a vain attempt at muffling the noises coming from the chambers adjacent to his. _Because if he has been aware of the sleep he’s made me lose all this time, I don’t think I will ever forgive him._

Despite what Sansa may think, Jon had actually been the first to discover Robb’s secret. Or at least he thought he was, but the honestly pathetic efforts Robb made at secrecy would fool no one who knew anything about affairs. To his best guess, his brother had been sleeping with Theon Greyjoy for the better part of the last month, and they had only become more careless and bold with where, when, and how they had their trysts the longer it went on. Even _Arya_ had caught on by now, and Jon suspected that his father and Lady Catelyn were only waiting for the best time to sit down their eldest child for a talking-to. 

In fact, Jon could say with confidence that he knew _exactly_ when the affair began. He was there, after all, in Winterfell's baths after a long and particularly grueling round of sword training with the eldest Stark and the ironborn.

...

Theon had, as usual, been bragging about some frisky tryst or another with a serving girl (or was it a tavern wench that time? Ros, that prostitute he liked? Some other willing person who so much as looked his way?). He had once been enthralled by his friend's tales. Graphic and visceral, they left nothing to the imagination and Jon had never known a woman in that way. The tales inspired something like intrigue at first, but after a time it became obnoxious. You can only hear the same story so many times, after all, and it didn't seem like Theon's escapades were inventive enough to warrant _that_ much time. Robb, though, clearly disagreed. He had flushed madly (although that could have been the hot water) when Theon graphically described using his fingers for things Jon didn't want to imagine, and by the time that story ended his eyes were two blue saucers. Theon grinned slyly, the way Jon hated, and leaned his head against a hand propped on the bath's wall.

"You like that story, Stark?" He said with all of the arrogance Jon had ever heard.

Robb had sputtered out some sort of disagreement which wouldn't have even fooled his baby brother before averting his gaze and coughing into a fist. To Jon's dismay, the reaction only motivated more provocation from Theon, whose grin had evolved into a smirk.

"Maybe you have one to share, then? I know Snow doesn't."

"Why would- I don't- I- I've never-" came more sputtering from the ginger-haired boy. His face was fully red by then, to a degree that couldn't have possibly been the hot water's fault.

"Well, no matter." A long stretch of silence came after, interrupted only by the slight ripple of water in the baths that echoed off the chamber walls. Jon had his eyes closed, head rested against the wall of the bath, in an attempt to enjoy the remaining time he had in the soothing heat. He could only hope that Theon would respect this wish and _not fucking talk about fucking anymore._

"...Did I ever tell you about the time I slept with a man?"

 _Fucking hells!_ Jon thought while letting out the weariest sigh he could conjure. It went ignored. "Why would I _possibly_ want to know about the time you slept with a man?" He asked, desperate not to hear the gritty details. As he said it, though, a realization came that the question probably wasn't intended for him.

Sure enough, the Greyjoy's gaze was trained on Robb, who's poor face would probably never reach it's natural pallor again. 

With purpose, Jon stood, grabbed a bath robe, and hurried towards the chamber's exit, his brother left to his fate.

...

But that was almost a month ago, and although he hadn't heard another raunchy tale from Theon, he had likely witnessed enough of his _activity_ to tell a tale himself. In fact, he could probably spin a different story for every location in the castle by now. Nowhere was safe. Not the Hall, not the training grounds, _especially_ not those forsaken baths (and Jon smelled all the worse for it, avoiding them as he was). No nook or cranny had been left out in the two's thorough couplings throughout Winterfell. Even the godswood was a little less sacred now, Robb and Theon having fornicated there under the watchful eyes of the Old Gods. Jon prayed to them extra as an apology.

In the morning, after taking an awkward breakfast with his sort-of-family in which Lady Catelyn tried in vain once _again_ to hint that an oblivious Robb was doing a poor job of hiding the consequences of his rendezvous (a particularly fresh love-bite was today's focus), he decided that going another day within these well-tainted walls was absolutely out of the question. So, double checking his schedule and grabbing a small portion of food and drink for later, Jon sneaked his way beyond the castle walls.

It was a long walk to his favorite clearing, but also a lovely day; no clouds blocked the summer sun, and although it was always chilly this far north, it was far from frigid. It would be very pleasant indeed to sit on his moss-covered rock by that small stream, the dappled sunlight warming his skin as he supped on whatever bread and fruits were scrounged from the kitchens earlier. It was Jon's special spot, where he went when he wanted to think by himself, when he felt particularly frustrated with his family, or just wanted to make himself scarce. He brought Robb there once. It hadn't been an altogether pleasant outing, filled with tears and confessed worries as it was, but there had certainly been worse.

He hiked for a while longer, letting the day's delightful weather lighten his mood. He was nearing the clearing now, going by his memorized landmarks, and it always helped to arrive in good spirits at his lovely little spot. Stopping for a moment, Jon took in a deep breath of the fresh summer air, closing his eyes for a moment and just _listening_. What beautiful silence it was, just the distant trickle of a stream up ahead, the light wind setting leaves a-rustle, Jon's own controlled breathing. _Not a single gasp, cry, or moan as far sound can travel. He_ smiled, finally, _finally_ tranquil. It wouldn't be much longer to his spot, just another stone's throw over that ridge, and there he was like to stay until sundown. _Maybe forever. Or at least until_ they _stop with the-_

_"Ahh!"_

The cry cut Jon from his reverie as quick and cleanly as a blade cut skin. _No_. All of the joy he felt mere moments before drained away with his hopes for a day of peace. _Absolutely not._ It sounded close by, just about a stone's throw over the ridge. _No! It can't be-_

But indeed it was. Scurrying to peak just over said ridge, Jon's secret clearing came into view, as tranquil as ever, dappled in sunlight and littered with mossy rocks, wild grasses, discarded pieces of clothing, and what Jon knew all too well to be the unclothed bastards (figurative) he called his brother and friend. _Is nothing sacred to you fiends!?  
_

Those fuckers (literal) were even performing their awful practice on _his rock. His moss-covered, sun-lit, perfect rock._ Now covered in naked Theon. _Wonderful_. Jon wished he had never brought Robb here. Damn his tears, that traitor betrayed the clearing's sanctity!

The cry was from Theon, Jon realized with shame that he could even tell the difference, lying against _Jon's rock_ with his back partially turned to the ridge. The angle of his body was just right so that no clear view was permitted, but nothing was left up to the imagination. He noticed Robb immediately, vibrant as his hair was, low on his lover's abdomen. Both of Theon's hands wove through it, slowly pushing him lower and lower until Jon _really_ regretted ever considering the man a friend. _Surely Robb isn't going to-_

But indeed he was. Jon watched on, frankly in horror, as with no more than a slight smirk Robb bent his head the remaining distance and took his partner into his mouth. It was all he could do to resist the urge to call out and make them stop, announce that he knew all along and _would they please never do that again, you don't know where that's been, Robb!_

Calling out probably wouldn't end well, though, seeing as a foreign object was currently down one of Robb's major airways and the last thing Jon wanted was to break the news to Father that his eldest son died from choking on a cock. _Even if its what he deserves, the ass._

So there he sat, an angry bastard atop a ledge, overlooking the dismal ruins of his good day for what felt like a lifetime. Ignoring the ironborn's gasping breaths, coming quicker now and almost in time with the movement of the eldest Stark's head, was almost doable until, with cry that sounded an awful lot like _'Robb',_ he reached completion. Jon had never begged for death more than in that moment, and he begged all the harder when Robb followed soon after. _What have I ever done? Who have I wronged? Which Gods hate me so much as to play such cruel jests?_

After a long moment of the two catching their breaths and Jon trying his damnedest to quell the fury in his soul, a small breath of a laugh came from below.

"Jon would kill me for this," came Robb's entirely too blissful voice, breathy and tired. "Well- for _here_ , at least." Jon wanted to _scream_.

"Mm? Is this where he takes his trysts?" Theon asked, harvesting their poor discarded clothes from the grassy floor. "Didn't take him for an 'outdoors' type of man."

"No, it's nothing like that. He just comes here to brood sometimes." His tunic was on again, which was a small relief. "Although I suppose he _could_ bring girls here. Doubtful." Jon chose to ignore the slight.

"It's just... I- Jon brought me here once a few years back. I told him some very personal things that just felt... _wrong_ to admit in the castle." A heavy sigh followed, and Robb suddenly had the decency to look abashed. "I guess that makes it a weird place for... well..."

The were both seated facing each other (fully clothed now) on his rock. Theon, to Jon's bemusement, reached over and gently took Robb's hand in both of his own. "What kind of 'things'?" he asked, thumbing circles into the back the hand he held.

"Hm?"

"The 'personal things' you told Jon. What were they?"

"Oh. It seems silly now, actually," he said. 

"Even more reason to say it."

Robb sighed, but it seemed a mite dramatic and a smile was on his lips. "I was... just _noticing_ some things I hadn't been before. About... well, _not_ about girls, I suppose is the way to say it. _You_ don't need to be told that, though." They shared a small smile at that, and Jon felt remarkably like he was intruding on something. _As though I_ wasn't _intruding ten minutes ago._

"Jon was just a listening ear," he continued. "I didn't know how to bring it up with anyone else and I was fairly panicked about it at the time."

"Well, I'm glad you worked it out for yourself." With that, Theon placed a light kiss on Robb's lips, laying his head against a tunic-covered shoulder. Robb snuggled closer almost immediately.

After a long, long moment of silence in which Jon thought (prayed) the two had fallen asleep, his brother raised his head once more, lifting his free hand to brush a stray hair from his lover's face.

"You know, there is one thing I didn't tell Jon. Couldn't tell him." Jon could hear the grin in his voice and immediately knew that whatever he heard next would probably make the 'intruder' feeling even worse.

"Oh? And what could such a secret be?" His tone was entirely playful now, the uncharacteristic intimacy from a moment ago all but vanished.

Both of Robb's hands were on pale cheeks now. "It was you."

"Me? I'm pretty sure our 'secret' isn't that old, Robb"

"Not _that,_ you ass. The... _not a girl_ I was noticing things about. It was you." A deep kiss sealed those words, a kiss that soon became quite too heated for Jon's liking.

 _I think I've been here long enough,_ Jon thought, looking for the chance to make his escape. Once he was sure the two weren't going to look up at the ledge, he carefully moved back and tread with the lightest steps he had ever taken until he was clear of the woods. The rest of his walk home was hurried, and he noticed the clear, blue sky was beginning to roll with dark clouds. He prayed that Robb and Theon made it home before that cloud broke over them. _They don't need another reason to take their clothes off._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, again! That was a rough one to write (for no good reason at all) and it turned out a little longer than I expected, but I hope you liked it! Kudos and reviews are greatly appreciated, as is constructive criticism. I am just getting back into writing so tell me what I can work on! :)


	5. Rickon's Stormy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains second-hand descriptions of sexual activity from a child who doesn't have a concept of what sex is. If this is uncomfortable for you, please click away or be cautious reading ahead!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! This is my first fanfiction (or really fiction work at all) since like seventh grade, and I had a blast getting back into writing and shit. I can't promise consistent updates, but I try my hardest, I swear!

5\. Rickon

Rickon was a big-boy. He would be five years old soon, and he was already of a height with his mother's belly-button! Arya still called him a baby, but Arya was always in trouble, too. Mother said not to listen to her when she spoke like that. Anyway, even _she_ wasn't allowed to sword-fight, so that had to count for something. That's right, Rickon was such a big-boy that father had allowed him to start training at swords! So, they were wooden, and he hadn't actually been allowed to _fight_ yet, only hold the wooden weapon and swing at air, but only big-boys were even allowed onto the training grounds in the first place.

Big-boys were brave. Robb was brave. Bran was brave. Even Arya (rude as she was, and not technically a big- _boy_ ) was brave. They weren't scared of storms and they did _not_ run to their parents' bed when thunder rattled them from sleep. They probably didn't even wake up when the sky boomed and screamed at them.

But Rickon wasn't quite that big yet, and a particularly angry crash of thunder had brought him swiftly into consciousness not ten minutes ago. He channeled his courageous elder brothers and tried his hardest to ignore the commotion and fall back asleep, but a jarringly bright whip of lightning cemented his wakefulness. If his heart sped up slightly at every subsequent crash and flash, it was definitely _not_ because he was afraid. Startled, maybe, but not _afraid!_ And if he left his room with a lantern in hand to seek company, it was purely out of boredom.

The only problem was, no one was awake at this time of night, and he really, _really_ didn't want to bother someone's sleep just because of a little rain. Going on an adventure through Winterfell would have been appealing, but it was so dark tonight with the moon hiding behind thick clouds, and the castle was always a little creepy at night. Add the storm on top of that an adventure was suddenly the last thing Rickon wanted.

So, clutching his lantern with both of his hands (it was rather heavy, even for him), he tentatively padded down the stairs, hoping beyond hope to see light coming from the cracks in one of his siblings' doors.

No luck from Arya's room, although she would probably tell him to go away even if she was awake. Bran, Sansa, and even his half-brother Jon's rooms were all pitch black as well. About to give up hope, Rickon made the last half-turn up the tower and saw, to his delight, a slight flicker spilling from under the door of his eldest brother's chambers. He scurried up to the doorway, quickly as to get there before another rumble from the sky, and quietly opened the door just a fraction.

Peering through the door’s small opening, though, he wasn’t reassured in the slightest. Robb seemed to be awake, although his eyes were screwed shut. His face was alarmingly red, too, and his breaths were coming in quick pants. Rickon would have assumed his brother was in the middle of a nightmare, except that Robb was a _big-_ big-boy, basically a man grown, and big-boys did _not_ have nightmares! Plus, that wouldn’t explain why Theon was in the bed, hovering over Robb and running his hands up and down his sides. Maybe Robb _was_ having a nightmare, and Theon was trying to wake him up? That made enough sense, but there were countless easier ways to do that than gently rubbing someone. And why did they have to be _naked_ to do that?

There was no making it make sense, Rickon decided. Maybe this was just one of the many, many things he would understand "when he was older", like Theon's jokes to his older siblings, or the stories Theon told when he thought the youngest Stark wasn't listening, or... really _anything_ to do with Theon Greyjoy, now that he thought about it. _Maybe that's why Mother doesn't want us around him_ , Rickon realized. _He's too difficult to understand._

But Robb clearly had no trouble on that front (he _was_ a big-big-boy, after all). They both knew what they were doing, foreign as it seemed to Rickon. The oldest Stark brother was matching every movement from Theon with one of his own, his own fingers stroking over bare shoulders and neck in time with the other's exploration of a freckled rib-cage and chest. A blanket was pulled over their bottom-halves, but riding low enough that Rickon could tell that they were bare there, too. Theon would occasionally grind down with his hips, to which Robb would reply by pressing upwards. The noise this elicited sounded quite pained to Rickon, who instantly became worried for his brother. _Is Theon hurting him?_

Robb's hands left the other's shoulders and came to tangle in dark, frazzled hair, visibly tugging slightly and pulling a deep, throaty noise from him. A noise that was, very quickly, muffled by a clash of mouths. Rickon could only assume they were trying to kiss, but this was nothing like the quick press-of-lips that his parents shared in greeting or departure, so he couldn't be sure. Really, with all of the tongue and teeth involved here, with all of the lip-biting, it looked more like they were trying to _eat_ each other. Indeed, Theon moved his attention to a collar bone and bit down hard, worrying at it for a minute as Robb's hand tightened in his hair. After a moment he traveled back upwards, leaving a wet and glaringly red mark in his wake. Another bite, this time on his neck, and Robb let out a pained gasp.

Now Rickon _was_ frightened. _He's eating him! He's_ eating _my brother!_ A particularly violent crash came from outside, accompanied by the brightest flash of lightning Rickon had ever seen. Forget frightened, even a big-boy would be scared senseless by that! And senseless he was, wailing in fear and bolting from the doorway. He left the door ajar in his haste, but couldn't be bothered to turn back.

He hadn’t meant to end up at the door to his parents’ chambers _(he hadn’t!)_ , but he soon found himself standing right outside of it nevertheless. Half of his mind was telling him not to go in, that a big-boy would be brave enough to go back to Robb’s room and save him himself. The other, much more convincing half said otherwise. _Anyone_ could be scared for their brothers, after all. Trying his best to calm his shaking hands and teary face, the young boy threw open the heavy door and barreled into his mother’s side of the bed.

"Mother! Mother, wake up, please!" came his plea as he shook the poor woman desperately from her slumber.

"Rickon?" she asked sleepily. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Did the storm wake you?"

He chose to ignore that question. After all, there was a much more important matter at hand. "He's _eating_ him, Mother!"

A truly confused look washed over her. "Eating? Who's eat- what?" There was no time for this. With all of the urgency he could muster, Rickon climbed into the bed and looked his mother dead in the eyes.

"Theon's eating him, mother! He's going to _die_!" He could feel the tears on his cheeks, but at this point was past caring. His big brother, his _brave_ big brother, wouldn't be saved at this rate!

His mother only sighed wearily and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "It wouldn't be Robb that Theon was 'eating', would it?" She asked. _How did she know?_

" _Yes!"_ He shouted back, not so sure that anything could be done now. No one was taking him seriously! Did Robb mean so little to them? "He was biting him on the neck _really hard_ , I saw it! And-and Robb was _screaming!"_

Another sigh, and Catelyn Stark rolled over to her husband. "Did you hear that, Ned?" She nudged the man beside her, who groaned in confirmation. Rickon hadn't even realized he was awake. "Theon's eating our son. Someone has to go save him."

Rickon's lord father could not have looked less excited about the prospect of _rescuing his eldest child_ , but with a tired grumble he stood from the bed and made his way to the door, only stopping to wrap a dressing robe around his night clothes. "I'll be only a minute," he said, but didn't sound too convinced.

Once his footsteps fell beyond earshot, Rickon cuddled into his mother's side, hugging her desperately. She ran a soothing hand through his auburn curls, so much like her own, and planted a kiss on a wet cheek.

"I'm sorry, mother. I didn't mean to be scared." She only hummed and rubbed circles into her youngest boy's back.

"Don't apologize, my love. Even the biggest-boys get scared sometimes. Just go to sleep, hm?"

"But Robb-"

"Will be just fine. You'll see." 

He was still suspicious, but if anyone could make sure of Robb's safety it was Father, and Mother never lied. So, realizing just how sleepy he truly was in the warmth of his mother's hug, the youngest Stark finally let his fears go for the night and he slipped quickly into a blissful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had been typed out and basically finished for about a week now, I've just been too distracted to add the finishing touches. Hope it was worth the wait! Kudos and reviews are greatly appreciated!


	6. Close the Goddamn Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the final chapter! This one contains explicit sexual activity and a lot of second-hand embarrassment.

6\. Ned

_Did you hear that Ned? Theon's eating our son. Someone has to go save him_.

The words rang through the lord of Winterfell's head as he strode with reluctant purpose down the dark halls of his castle. Ned thought that nothing could ever make him mad with his wife. It was hard for him to even argue with her on his best days. Hell, Catelyn could have made a cuckold of him and he would have called it justified; he might have thanked her, even, for finally giving him his comeuppance. He loved her _that_ much.

This, though. Sending _him_ to confront their eldest child about his month-long affair with the Greyjoy captive-slash-ward (the line there had blurred considerably) while they were likely _still in the act._ This would be hard for him to let slide. Maybe it was that he was here instead of comforting his sobbing four-year-old son, or maybe it was the prospect of what was to come, but the whole ordeal filled him with nerves and regret.

He should have planned for this or built up the willpower to confront his son sooner so he didn't _have_ to plan for this. He should know what to say by now, how to even approach the conversation.

But, alas, he did not, and now he was reaping the consequences as he quickly approached the door left ajar (Ned could only hope that was Rickon’s doing). Deep inside, he had prayed that the two would be finished by the time he got to the room, just so that he wouldn’t be... _interrupting_ anything, but it was a vain hope at best; as he had gathered from Jon’s despairing rants, the two could go at it for unnervingly long periods of time.

As he had feared, the telltale noises of lovemaking made themselves heard not a half turn up the stairway from the bedroom: a throaty groan, hitched gasps, the rhythmic creaking of a bed frame, and the gentle smack of skin against skin. They clearly thought they were being quiet, with poor muffling attempts evident in the noise, but it was louder to Ned than any storm could be. _How on earth do they think no one knows about this?_ Ned pondered, truly baffled by his son’s blissful unawareness. It didn’t even seem like they _knew_ the door was open. He hadn’t been planning on punishing his son for this tryst, but a lesson in privacy and _double-checking locks_ was probably in order if nothing else. 

Now upon the doorway, Ned realized he hadn’t come into this with the slightest plan for what to do next. _I should probably knock,_ he decided. _But do I wait until they’re done?_ Embarrassing his son was the last thing he wanted, and definitely the last thing Robb needed, but that meant he would have to wait outside the door and _listen. Bad and wrong. Not what good fathers do._ He _really_ didn’t want to have to look into the room, though.

The choice was soon made for him, though, for a wayward glance towards the cracked door gave Ned a far clearer view of his son and ward than he would have cared for. He only saw for a second, but it was enough. 

Suddenly Ned was glad Rickon only noticed the “eating”. There were marks of that, too, all over both lovers but mainly condensed to Robb’s collar and chest, challenging his freckles for space. 

Robb was lying with his back on the bed, one leg was thrown over Theon’s hips, the other pushed to his chest by a pale hand. The hand that wasn’t occupied with failing to muffle his now incessant moans was clasped tightly with Theon’s as the ironborn rocked against him, _into_ him. 

“A-ah! Theo-!” Robb’s cry was quickly (thankfully) cut off, but Ned had looked away so fast he couldn’t be bothered to know why. It didn’t stop Theon from moaning in turn.

“ _Fuck_ , oh- mmh! I’m-“

” _Me too_.” Only a whisper now. Enough was enough and waiting was officially out of the question.

_It’s now or never, Eddard._ Stealing himself for whatever came next, Ned rapped loudly on the door frame and cleared his throat. He heard one of the boys suck in a startled breath through his teeth while the other yelped in surprise, and then a silence fell, so thick it was nearly tangible.

He cleared his throat again.

"Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy, I am giving you exactly thirty seconds to make yourselves decent before I enter this room." He hoped his voice didn’t betray his hesitations.

“ _Thirty_.” There was a moment’s stunned pause, then a scramble from the bed and half-whispered arguments. (“ _Did you leave the fucking door open!?” “Of course not, did you_?”)

“ _Twenty seconds_.” The sound of clothing being shaken out, various profanities spilled as they were hastily thrown on. 

“ _Ten seconds_.” More swearing and panicked rambling, frantic now (“ _Pants, pants! Where_!?”)

A deep breath and Ned reached for the door. “ _Zero_. I’m coming in now.”

A slight push and the door opened to reveal the two, flustered, half-dressed, and looking anywhere except for at Ned or each other. He tried his best to stifle a laugh at the sight of them. To both of their credit, they had managed to cover all of the important bits, even though it looked like Theon had somehow put his breeches on backward and Robb still only had one arm in his nightshirt. Their faces were as red as they could be, mussed hair and heavy breathing all pointing towards their previous engagement. Robb wore an expression that screamed “kill me now”, and even Theon had the decency to look embarrassed for once. 

". . ."

The silence that permeated the room was a fragile thing that neither party seemed willing to break first. As seemed to be the theme tonight, Ned was at a loss for what to do next. He stood impassive in the doorway, arms crossed and looking between the two boys before him, and quirked an eyebrow in hopes beyond hope that one of them took the hint and began explaining themselves before _he_ had to initiate the conversation. They just fidgeted and avoided his gaze.

The longer the silence dragged on the more dismal the two became, until Theon had a look in his eyes like he couldn’t decide whether to be sick, terrified, or both and Robb was clenching back tears.

_Shit._ With an inward groan and a look of reluctance, Ned gave in. _Not how I wanted this to go._

"Well, I'm not about to lop off your heads," he began, hoping he could at least defuse the palpable tension. "If sleeping around were treason, few men would make it past their twentieth name day."

It didn't seem to help all that much.

Ned gave a tired sigh and dragged over a chair, motioning for the other two to sit on the bed. They did so with haste. He sat, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, and looked between his son and his ward once more.

"I'm not upset with you. And you shouldn't be upset with yourselves, either. This kind of thing is only natural if a bit awkward to deal with." This earned a visible release of tension from his son and a grateful sigh from Theon. _Were they that afraid of me?_ Ned thought with a sudden lurch of guilt.

"Now, I don't know how else to say this, and it's far too late an hour for this conversation, so I'll just be blunt." He gave each boy a meaningful glance "Both of you are truly terrible at keeping secrets."

Neither had been expecting that, it seemed, if the confused look they passed between each other was anything to go by.

"Terrible?" Theon blurted out. Any trace of the fear or caution from a moment ago was forgotten that quickly at the slight to his capabilities. "We lasted a-month-and-a-damn-half without you knowing." He sat back a bit and crossed his arms, looking far too pleased with himself, and Ned was all too happy to tear down that facade.

"Theon," he began. "Sansa caught you two in _your room_ not a week ago when you left the door open. Bran saw you kissing at the archery posts the day after that, and Arya has heavily implied that she _threw rocks at you_ in the Godswood without you noticing." Theon just humphed in defeat, but Robb's eyes had gone as wide as saucers, his jaw slackened so much it threatened to fall off. His face was so red at this point Ned could have mistaken him for a strawberry.

" _You KNEW_?!" he all but squeaked and received a nod in response.

"I'm sorry, son, but those love-bites never looked like training wounds."

"And... and... we aren't- I mean, you aren't going to-"

“You've done nothing wrong." He had to amend that. "Well, maybe you’ve traumatized your brothers a bit. But Sansa seems to find this whole thing quite romantic. What did she call it again? _Forbidden love?”_ He was teasing at this point, and Robb had his head buried in his hands, groaning in mortification. _Better than tears, I suppose_ , thought Ned, satisfaction pulling a grin to his face. "So no, no damage. Although I do expect an apology to Rickon come morning.”

" _Rickon?!”_

"Mm," he hummed in confirmation. "Jon, too. The poor lad hasn't had a full night's sleep for... you said it's been a month?"

" _And a_ _half_ ," Theon clarified.

" _You're not helping_ ," came Robb's hand-muffled voice. Ned supposed he was right, though. Robb could be teased in the morning, after all (and judging by the faint laughter from behind the adjacent wall, they would be well-teased), and Ned, with a yawn, quickly grew aware of just how late in the night it was.

He stood up and moved the chair back to its proper place, then looked back to the two on the bed.

"We'll have a more serious talk on the morrow, boys. When all of us have had some time to think about what to say. I expect to see you, Robb, at breakfast bright and early. And Theon... fix your pants before you go to bed, yeah?" The latter reddened at that. Ned stifled another chuckle as he left, in far better spirits than he ever could have hoped for the situation.

Just as always, Ned decided, he would thank Catelyn for sending him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this story! I can't say how happy it made me that my first work in nearly a decade was received well! It was short and kind of silly but I actually had a lot of hangups and anxiety about posting this. I am super appreciative of all of the kudos and kind comments you have left, and I feel far more confident now about writing other stories in the future!


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